


Protect an angel from himself

by madlysanecatlady



Series: The Nice and Accurate Ineffable Husbands Compendium [10]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drunk Fic, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 20:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19157983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlysanecatlady/pseuds/madlysanecatlady
Summary: Drunken angels can be a bit forward.





	Protect an angel from himself

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr post lol. (https://smiles-hurt-me.tumblr.com/post/185483869798/damn-is-someone-gonna-write-a-fanfic-where-crowley#notes)

Something many people wouldn’t think about creatures of indulgence and excess ( _demon_ really didn’t have a good ring to it, as far as Crowley was concerned, he just liked a little mayhem) was that it was incredibly difficult for them to get drunk. And by difficult, he of course meant expensive/not worth the bother. It was fun when they were in Aziraphale’s bookshop and Crowley could just surreptitiously turn his wine into absinthe or triple the amount, but it was rather boring in public where he needed to be more careful and keep up appearances. And of course, there was the matter of Aziraphale.

For the life of him, Crowley could not fathom what had possessed the angel to even come here in the first place. Bars were never really the angel’s _thing_. And this one, well, it was full of drunken debauchery that would normally have him bumbling and blushing, were it not for the absolute glaze that had settled over his eyes. Crowley could tell, even at a distance, that Aziraphale was very drunk. Not that he was surprised, of course. He couldn’t tell if it was all angels, Crowley fell before alcohol was invented, after all, but _this_ angel could barely hold his own against a glass of wine. Crowley had a feeling the cocktails in this establishment were made with _slightly_ stronger stuff than that. And they were sweet too – Crowley knew that was a recipe for disaster where Aziraphale was concerned. The idiot had probably drunk a cool dozen already while he’d had his back turned.

‘Angel, what in the nine circles of hell are you doing?’ Crowley finally decided to venture over. ‘I thought I was hallucinating when I read your note saying you were here.’

‘Ah! Crowley! You made it! Barkeep, a drink or twelve for my friend here, the prettiest of pleases,’ Aziraphale slurred out to the harried looking woman behind the bar. She rolled her eyes at Crowley.

‘Lightweight, isn’t he?’

‘How many’d he have?’ Crowley asked.

‘Just the one,’ she giggled. ‘He’s in no danger of poisoning, just of being really funny. He’s a real sweetheart.’

‘He’s an absolute angel,’ Crowley drawled. ‘Well, I’d best catch up then, hm? I’ll need a solid round of 24 shots. Your choice of liquor. Thanks love.’ He slid a generous tip over along with his payment, figuring she’d earned it, dealing with a drunken idiot like his angel.

She busied herself pouring out his shots and mixing another drink for Aziraphale, who took it with glee, fumbling around his pockets for money.

‘No, hon, this one’s on me,’ the bartender smiled. ‘It’s nice to have a guy round here who isn’t leching about. They usually stay up in SoHo and don’t venture this far down the street.’

‘I’m on an adventure today,’ the angel told her proudly. ‘I was told that I’m just _too routine to have any fun_. So I’m out having fun.’

‘That’s the spirit!’ she smiled and heading down the bar to tend to the rest of her customers, leaving Crowley to groan next to Aziraphale.

‘Is that what this is about, angel?’ Crowley thought back to just that morning, when he and Aziraphale had gotten into a bit of a row over Crowley’s being unreachable and unfindable while he partook in an underground poker game. He had perhaps crossed a line in insulting the angel’s capability for having fun. He was loads of fun in his own way, Crowley just needed some unpredictability every now and again.

‘I’ll show you _fun and unpredictable_ , you great, beautiful bastard,’ Aziraphale grumbled, attempting to throw Crowley a dirty look but completely ruining it by bursting into a fit of giggles.

Crowley sighed and downed a few of the shots in quick succession. This was going to take some strength of will to deal with, he could tell. ‘Angel, I _like_ that you’re predictable.’

Aziraphale paused mid-drink, lips pursed around the thin straw, to star at him. He swallowed. ‘You ought not to lie, or you will become better at being a demon.’ He hiccupped.

Crowley downed more shots before pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Why had he opened his dumb mouth? He would not be in this predicament if he’d held his temper in check. He sighed. ‘You know I never lie to you, angel. I like knowing exactly what to expect with you. It’s usually a meal.’

‘Are you calling me fat?’

‘No, angel, you’re scrumptious,’ Crowley rolled his eyes. He cursed his high tolerance when he ran out of shots and was barely past a buzz. It would appear he would not be slithering his way out of the responsible position and would instead need to look after this loveable idiot to ensure he didn’t do anything he would regret.

‘You’re simply scrummy, I hope you know,’ Aziraphale sucked his second drink dry. ‘Like these drinks. Whatever they are, they are simply marvelous.’

Crowley snorted. Drunk Aziraphale was honestly a treat. He didn’t see the harm in letting him have a few more drinks before herding him off back home. He flagged down the bartender, wondering how Aziraphale would take to shots. He had always been a curious one, and this was a small curiosity that would be easy to sate.

The shots were a bad idea. Terrible, really. Aziraphale was all but draped over Crowley in his seat by the end of his third. Crowley was at least thankful he was here to keep any eye on him. He couldn’t bear the thought of some unsavoury character taking advantage of such a loving and innocent wonder as his angel in his inebriated state.

‘Come on, angel, let’s go get you sobered up,’ Crowley essentially lifted Aziraphale to his feet. He supported him through the throngs of dancing, drunken humans and out into the cool night air.

‘I don’t remember how,’ Aziraphale said after a minute. He looked up at the demon, lost. ‘Oh dear, this is a kerfuffle.’

‘Well, I’ll bring you home and we can see what we can do from there,’ Crowley opened the door to the Bentley and plopped Aziraphale in.

‘There’s many _fun_ things we could do together there,’ Aziraphale said once Crowley threw himself into the driver’s seat. He reached out to squeeze Crowley’s thigh. ‘Fun things I think you’d like.’

Crowley fumbled and stalled the car. He turned to the angel in shock. ‘Angel, what the hell are you doing?’

‘I believe the colloquial term is _wooing_ ,’ Aziraphale looked very proud of himself.

‘Hasn’t been for at least a century,’ Crowley shook his head, getting the car into gear properly this time. ‘But I’m more wondering _why_.’

Aziraphale didn’t answer and Crowley thought he had lost consciousness. He turned to check on him while he swerved around traffic expertly to find the angel pouting at him, eyes watery.

‘Angel, don’t cry,’ this was a plea. Crowley could barely work with his own emotions. He had absolutely no idea how to handle a drunken angel’s.

‘You don’t want me,’ Aziraphale started to cry anyway. Crowley was thankful to have made it to the bookshop; at least the books might cheer him up.

‘Far from, angel,’ Crowley sighed heavily, getting out of the car and going around to help Aziraphale stumble out. ‘I’ve wanted you for about 6000 years.’

‘So have me,’ Aziraphale leaned in to kiss him, but found his lips intercepted by a single cold finger. ‘I knew you were lying.’ He looked ready to start on the crying again.

‘I don’t lie to you, angel,’ Crowley let them into the bookshop and dragged Aziraphale along with him to the back room. ‘You must know that by now.’

‘But you don’t… why won’t you… just let me kiss your stupid beautiful mouth,’ Aziraphale huffed, crossing his arms and pouting like a sullen teenager.

Crowley felt such a wave of affection that he briefly worried his resolve would waver and he would allow the angel to stumble into something he would regret. But the affection was followed up by a surge of protectiveness that instead doubled it. ‘Angel, any other time, I’d let you have me any which way you want. But you aren’t yourself right now, are you? You’re actually a bit of a mess. So let’s get that sorted first, hm?’

‘So I’m not attractive to you,’ Aziraphale’s voice was cracking and thick with tears. ‘I knew it. All those cakes… and you, you just keep looking so perfectly delectable but I had to go and turn into one of the cakes myself and… I don’t know. I really am quite drunk, aren’t I?’

‘Exceedingly,’ Crowley nodded. ‘And don’t be stupid. You’re beautiful inside and out, angel. You’re, what’s that word you love so much again – scrummy? Yes, you’re spectacularly scrummy. But you’re drunk and in no state of mind for any of that, are you?’

‘You have your protective face on,’ Aziraphale commented mildly, plopping down onto the sofa, smiling when Crowley sat next to him.

‘Hm, never thought I’d see the day where I’d need to protect you from yourself though,’ Crowley grabbed the blanket he knew Aziraphale kept there solely so Crowley could have naps in comfort there, and wrapped it around the angel. ‘Come on, angel. Just relax until you can figure out how to sober up. I’ll stay here with you to make sure you don’t do anything else stupid.’

‘Such a sweet demon I’ve fallen in love with,’ Aziraphale murmured, making Crowley’s heart skip several beats to the point where he wondered if he were about to be discorporated. He hoped he had not misheard that, but refused to let himself hope; the angel was a drunken mess after all.

It took a few hours of Crowley occasionally needing to gently rebuff the angel’s increasingly sloppy advances before he remembered how to sober up. Crowley watched him go from a lax expression to one of mild horror within a few seconds of each other.

‘Oh goodness me, Crowley, I’m _so_ sorry for the way I’ve acted,’ Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed so darkly they turned maroon.

‘I’m not, that was a treat, honestly,’ Crowley chuckled. ‘You, angel, are a very affectionate drunk. Must come from being a creature of love?’

‘Hmm, perhaps,’ Aziraphale appeared to be deep in thought.

‘You’re far too insecure though,’ Crowley added. ‘You don’t need to worry, you _are_ gorgeous.’

‘Oh bugger, I was going to pretend none of this happened,’ Aziraphale huffed but leaned over to press his lips to Crowley’s, smiling when he wasn’t intercepted this time.

‘No taking that back, angel,’ Crowley said when Aziraphale pulled away. ‘That was bliss.’

‘Mm, quite,’ Aziraphale looked ready to float straight to the ceiling. His cheeks went red again. ‘At risk of sounding too forward, I wonder if you might like to… stay the night? It is rather late, since you’ve had to stay here with me.’

‘Of course angel,’ Crowley grinned. ‘How else am I supposed to protect you from yourself? All elective activities are just bonuses.’

Aziraphale smiled and reached out to take his hand. ‘Then why don’t you come upstairs and you can protect me from myself there?’

‘Angel, after that kiss, you can lead me anywhere and I’ll follow.’

And he did. Aziraphale led the way up the stairs and Crowley, after wanting and waiting for so very long, followed.


End file.
